


Illusion

by Mireille



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Community: smut_69, F/M, The Author Regrets Everything
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-11-11
Updated: 2006-11-11
Packaged: 2019-03-15 04:42:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13605765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mireille/pseuds/Mireille
Summary: "He knows this is obscene: both because the robot isn't Buffy, and because it is, nonetheless, so very like her. "





	Illusion

**Author's Note:**

> Set during the time period before Buffy's resurrection, which is why I chose "choose not to warn"--nobody dies in this ficlet, but Buffy's death is a crucial point.

He knows this is obscene: both because the robot isn't Buffy, and because it is, nonetheless, so very like her. 

But Buffy is far beyond caring, and so he tells himself this is only a small thing. 

The robot believes him when he tells it--he can't bring himself to call it "her"--this is part of its training, a part kept secret between Watcher and Slayer. 

And when he comes, deep inside the mockery of flesh, he calls a name it thinks is its own, and it never thinks to ask him why his face is wet with tears.

****

"Don't speak."

The robot can't sound like Buffy; the chirpy non sequiturs always shatter the illusion. 

If she stays quiet, he can pretend, can touch her gently, almost reverently, concerned about her--obviously programmed--pleasure, the way he would never have allowed himself to touch Buffy. 

When the robot forgets and speaks, though, it breaks the spell, and he fucks it, hard and rough against the wall, his hands gripping its arms and hips hard enough that he would have bruised ordinary flesh. 

But not plastic. And not a Slayer, and so even then, he can hold onto the pretense.

****

It's just a sex toy, the embodiment of wish-fulfillment. He's not degrading Buffy's memory by letting it straddle him, its artificial slickness feeling almost blood-warm around his cock.

It's Spike's fault the robot has Buffy's face. Willow's the one twisting its purpose to suit her needs; this is what the thing had been made for. 

His rationalization weakens the night he kisses it, brushing its hair back from its face. It crumbles when he calls it "Buffy," and doesn't mean the girl buried in a secret grave. 

The following morning, he calls the airline. He's been in Sunnydale too long.


End file.
